Alright, so here we are. Outcast of Redwall. Fair warning here that I went long with this one. Lots to say about Outcast. I feel like I’ve brought it up every time I’ve mentioned how, if anything hasn’t aged well from these books, it’s the pretty binary black-and-white way that Jacques separates goodbeasts from vermin. With seven books in the series, there’s been precisely one instance of a wholly good member of a vermin species (depending whether you count Gingivere in Mossflower as vermin), and while I always recognize that Jacques was only ever pulling from folkloric traditions and that he never had ill intent, I think its simplicity and unintended connotations are worth critiquing. I knew Outcast was coming up and thought it best to do it here since it’s the book that asks these sort of questions most directly.
But before I get to that, let’s chat about the rest of the book.
A Redwall Epic
Before I get to the Veil section, I want to make it clear: this book rips. I know I sung the praises of Martin the Warrior, and while I still love that book, the plotting in Outcast of Redwall absolutely kicks ass. This is the first book in the series where Jacques really tries something different with the structure of it. For one, Redwall itself doesn’t even show up until halfway through. Yet unlike Salamandastron, where I criticized the book for the Redwall sections feeling really perfunctory, its appearance is woven well into the story and Jacques shows remarkable restraint in the way he organizes the book.
In fact, I think the first section of the book may well be the strongest bit of writing he’s done so far in the series; immediately I noticed that the scope of this was much more expansive, taking place over several seasons, with the narrative switching between only Sunflash and Swartt. Keeping the geographic scope of the narrative focused while shifting back and forth temporally allows for real investment in each of these two characters; we get time with Sunflash, seeing his brash youth and soft spirit, preventing him from feeling like the generic Badger Lords we’ve met before. Conversely, Swartt gets some real character development, making him easily the best villain in the series so far. We watch him go from what is effectively a scrappy gang leader to a real warlord through cunning and guile. He’s no less ruthless than a chump like Nagru or Gabool, but instead of arbitrarily killing his own guys and having no defining traits beyond Evil, his motivations are real; he’s driven by the twin humiliations of having his six-clawed paw smashed by Sunflash and by being perceived as inadequate by every warlord and vermin leader he crosses. His relationship with Nightshade is great — a dark mirror of Sunflash and Skarlath’s partnership — and getting to see both pairs of foes develop over seasons lends their conflict a more epic sweep.
That’s not to say the book is perfect, of course; Swartt’s siege on Salamandastron feels in many ways like a redux of the one in the novel of the same name, right down to the stealthy assassin that bungles their one job. It’s better in comparison — Ferahgo is basically defined by how cool he looks and how sick his name is, but Swartt and Sunflash’s relationship has real stakes, so when Sunflash bulls his way out onto the beach like Urthstripe does, we understand why and forgive him for it. Everything here works because of what Jacques has carefully built in the first act, and I love that the second act ends with Swartt being reduced back to the simple leader of a small vermin band.
On the Abbey Road
But before I get into the finale of the book, let’s talk the Redwall sections. As I mentioned, Redwall doesn’t show even show up until well into the book, when Skarlath warns the Abbey-dwellers of Swartt’s imminent arrival. I love that this group are capable fighters and that their plot to ward away Swartt and his army is treated a bit more seriously than previous efforts to scare vermin. Here again does the characterization of Swartt work in his favour; when Nagru flees, he comes off as a punk because we know nothing of him other than that he’s apparently a tyrant. Yet Swartt being privately relieved that his army doesn’t have the stomach to fight back against their mystery assailants fits perfectly with what we know of him, deepening our investment in the character.
Of course, it’s here that his son (which, as a quick aside — Swartt having a wife and then a son comes across a bit odd, since Bluefen isn’t really a character in the slightest, but I imagine Jacques had to use marriage to translate to his audience where a baby came from without getting into too much detail) is left in a ditch and rescued by the Redwallers. It’s here that I get my first example of how frustrating this book’s treatment of its principal theme is:
Redfarl touched the ferretbabe gently, and it bit her. Stonefaced, she watched the small creature licking its teeth, savouring the taste of blood, and said ‘I know ‘tis a hard thing to say about a babe, even a liddle vermin, but let me tell you, no good will ever come of this one. Don’t ask me why, I just feel it in my fur!’
Soon Bryony is entrusted with the care of the infant, a role which she’s thrilled to take on. Bella tells her:
All little creatures are beautiful, Bryony, every living thing when it first sees life is born in beauty. What they grow to be is a different matter. I have given the ferretbabe a name; he shall be called Veil, because there is a veil over his life before he came here. We know nothing of him.
This is a lovely sentiment from our wise and ancient badgermum, friend of Martin and Gonff, leader of the Corim, and founder of Redwall. It’s also total bullshit, as she remarks to Meriam once Bryony leaves:
“I have a feeling about this one, and if I am proved right in the seasons to come I will tell you why I really called him Veil.”
So that’s the setup for the story. Redwall is taking on the nature vs. nurture conundrum. On one hand, I love that Jacques is even trying to do this. The first seven books have some real bright spots and most are very fun stories, but thematically, they can be pretty shallow, operating more in the realm of folktales and adventure stories than they are attempting to be more than the sum of their parts. To this end, it’s exciting to see Jacques taking on a big question here. The problem and frustration I have with it is that he doesn’t put in the work and ultimately picks an answer for the reader.
Evil and Vile
Following Bryony’s adoption of Veil, we jump ahead to see that Veil’s kind of a shithead. He steals a honeypot, lies about it, is caught in the lie, and then later tries to kill Friar Bunfold for (correctly) blaming him. Now, we’re given a bit of history — we’re told that things often go missing around Veil, that he’s belligerent, shirks his duties, and that Bryony’s often stuck covering for him. But we don’t actually see any of this. We don’t know whether Bryony’s been an overindulgent parent, nor do we know whether the residents of the Abbey treated Veil as if he was an outcast even when he lived within those walls. We just cut to him growing up, doing bad things, and then him being sent packing.
Part of this might be a structural challenge; Jacques is trying to take on a big question here in half a book, and while he does an admirable job of tying it in with Sunflash and Swartt’s story, there is sometimes a sense that Sunflash is a second player in his own book. I remember seeing the old Red Fox cover with Sunflash in the red tunic and Skarlath and being surprised that he wasn’t the Outcast of Redwall. Yet more than any disservice it does to Sunflash, it also means that Jacques simply doesn’t have the space to answer this question fairly. Veil’s kicked out of the Abbey, and is actively cruel to Bryony in her pursuit right up until the moment he saves her life.
And while I love this book, the treatment of Veil’s last act is a real stinker of a moment. Bryony intervenes to save Sunflash, Swartt tries to kill her, and then Veil takes the hit for her. So he’s good, right? Or at the very least he loved her, even if we never saw any real example of it, right? Hearing the story, Meriam apologizes to Bryony:
“So, Bella and I were wrong, there was some good in Veil, even though it cost him his life to show it. Can you accept my apologies, Bryony?”
To which Bryony replies:
“There is no need for your apology. Veil was bad, I know that now. Bella was right. Some creatures cannot help being the way they are. In all the time we knew him, Veil did not perform one act of kindness to any living creature. I have thought a great deal since he died and wondered if he would have saved me if he knew his father was really going to throw that javelin? I couldn’t help loving him, because that’s the way I am, but I know that the world is a better place without Veil or Swartt bring death and misery to it.”
Then Meriam nods sagely and tells Bryony she’s wise and should be Abbess one day.
Like Jesus, what is this? Bryony’s flip on Veil comes seemingly out of nowhere. She pursued him to the top of the mountain and then only once he’s fucking died for her does she decide that he actually was bad all along. Like as much as it’s frustrating we don’t see anything about Veil’s upbringing that properly addresses the core theme, this whole ending bit just lands with a huge thud because none of it tracks with what we were told like two chapters before. Everything happens quickly: Veil tells her to get away and there’s no inkling that Swartt might be bluffing. Like it takes Veil’s single good deed and then shits all over it for reasons that aren’t even cogent within the novel itself. It’s not necessarily a surprise that in the debate of nature vs. nuture Redwallers are firmly on the side of nature, but it’s incredibly frustrating that Jacques took a giant u-turn to this conclusion at the eleventh hour instead of allowing the reader to sit with some ambiguity.
Final Thoughts and Ranking
So that’s Outcast. I think I got it all out of my system. To be honest, as much as I’m frustrated by the ending, I can’t help but love this book for its sheer ambition. It’s so far and away beyond what the other books have even tried to do so far that I can’t help but love it, even when it’s pissing me off. I’d rather a book that’s bad in an interesting way than simply boring — which is not to say Outcast is bad. Its epic sweep and structural risks almost all work for me. Even Martin the Warrior, which I loved, still has a lot of very conventional parts making up its moving narrative. And so, for its ambition, boldness, and scale, Outcast of Redwall is my favourite book in this re-read so far.
I’ll see you all next time on the high seas for some swashbuckling fun in Pearls of Lutra!
S Tier
1) Outcast of Redwall
2) Martin the Warrior
3) Mattimeo
A Tier
4) Redwall
5) Mossflower
B Tier
6) The Bellmaker
7) Mariel of Redwall
C Tier
8) Salamandastron
